


Just One Lie

by ruflylover



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-02 14:03:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4062697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruflylover/pseuds/ruflylover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Catelyn Stark tells a lie that will forever change the fate of her family. AU - completely different plot line. Same characters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Lie

“Catelyn’s bath was always hot and steaming, and her walls warm to the touch. The warmth reminded her of Riverrun, of days in the sun with Lysa and Edmure, but Ned could never abide the heat. The Starks were made for the cold, he would tell her, and she would laugh and tell him in that case they had certainly built their castle in the wrong place” (Game of Thrones by George RR Martin).

After they were finished Catelyn rest her body upon her husband’s, flesh against flesh under the furs. Her breasts were warm against his chest and her heat pressed just above his manhood, she looked up at him with sadness and longing her eyes, their faces mere inches apart.  
“Please don’t go, Ned,” she whispered.   
“Catelyn, you know I must.” Her full name was harsh sounding on his lips.   
She laid her had against his chest; her face blushed with embarrassment for showing her weakness and need for her husband. She knew she was being selfish, but she couldn’t help it.   
“What if…I were with child?” she mumbled against him. He shifted suddenly under her and lifted her chin roughly.  
“Are you with child, Cat?” he asked urgently.  
She looked down, ashamed and began to play with his coarse chest hair.  
“I might be,” she stated mildly, not meeting his gaze. It was not a lie, but it was certainly a stretch of the truth. It had been more than three years since she last held an infant within her womb. If she could become pregnant, it was likely she should have already.  
“Might?” Eddard asked, tucking a stray hair behind his wife’s ear. Part of him wished it were true. If she was with child, he could use it as an excuse not to leave with Robert. It was not exactly a noble decision, but it would be understood.  
“If I were, would you leave, Ned?”   
“It is my duty, my love,” he told her honestly.  
“You have spent half your life fighting Robert Baratheon’s wars, you owe him nothing.”  
“He is my King, Cat – and yours too.”  
“I can’t do it,” she whispered against him.  
“You have done it before.”  
“We were not in love then, Eddard.”  
“True enough.”

*GOT*

Sansa Stark was giddy with admiration for Joffrey Baratheon. His golden mane was seething with manly maturity for he was two years older than her. But the best part about their likely arrangement was the fact that she was going to be Queen one day. How glorious a title! She would rule the realm with the most handsome King by her side. Her once dull life seemed now brimming with hope and possibility. She would get to leave Winterfell – dreary and dark Winterfell - and join the prestigious and powerful Baratheon’s on the Iron Throne in charming King’s Landing. She wondered if it would be at all like the pictures in her storybooks.   
Arya Stark, Sansa’s nine year old little sister suddenly spoke, interrupting her day dream: “Stitching is for ladies,” she fumed, lazily dragging her needle through the fabric she was holding.   
“We are ladies,” Sansa said dully, quite used to the little girls’ hostility towards all things homely and womanly.  
“What if I want to be a knight one day? I could fight alongside Robb and Jon, and I have a much better aim than Bran or probably even Rickon when he comes of age,” she bragged.  
“First of all, Arya. Jon won’t be fighting alongside Robb,” she stated, becoming increasingly annoyed with her younger sister.  
“Why not?”  
“He will be joining the night’s watch, at least that is what Robb told me.”  
“Why? Does he not want to be married?”  
“I don’t know, Arya,” she said honestly.  
They both knew that Jon was not fully their brother, for they did not have the same mother. He was treated differently because he was not a Stark.  
“Will I go to King’s Landing with you, Sansa, or will I stay in Winterfell with mother?”  
Suddenly the door swung open and Lady Stark entered, “No one will be going to King’s Landing.”  
Sansa dropped her stitching, “What do you mean?”  
“Your father is declining the position as King’s hand. His duty is with his family in Winterfell.”  
“You can’t mean that, mother,” Sansa cried, “I’m meant to go with him, I’m meant to marry Joffrey!”  
“I did not say you would not marry Joffrey, my sweet. But you will wait until you have bled, then you will go,” she assured her daughter.  
Arya scrunched her face in disgust, “I hope I never bleed,” she said.  
“Arya Stark,” her mother scolded, “A woman’s greatest gift is her ability to bear children for her husband.”  
“I don’t want a husband, and I don’t want children. I want to fight!”  
“No daughter of mine will be drudging through the mud with a bow and arrow, Arya,” Catelyn scowled, trying to hide a smile. Arya was certainly a special girl, full of salt and brine. She was born screaming and flailing in protest and she hadn’t stopped since.   
Catelyn approached her youngest daughter and stroked her hair out of her small cherub face, “You are still young, my love. You will learn to appreciate what it means to be a woman. Like your sister, you will marry well and birth many healthy children, God’s be good.”  
Arya frowned but said nothing.  
“Why did father decline Robert’s request? I thought that he did not have a choice, Robert is the King after all,” Sansa said.   
“Your father is not going because…because you will soon have a new baby brother or sister,” Catelyn said, stumbling over her words. The lie got heavier every time she told it. Last night she had convinced her husband that she might be carrying his child and she had convinced herself that it could be the truth.


	2. The Attack

That night was the extravagant dinner held for the royal party. Robert was upset and hurt that his friend since boyhood would deny him in such a way. He was giving him the greatest honor a lord could receive, well despite being King of course. He brooded in the corner of the dining hall, one hand held a glass of wine and the other the breast of an unknown Northern woman. He planned to get very drunk tonight – he might even make a fool of himself, but he was the King! He was allowed to do whatever he wished and no one could stop him. If he wanted Eddard Stark to follow him back to King’s Landing, by god he would have him! No one denied the King! He knew it was that bitch, Catelyn Stark, who had planted the seed in his mind. She was with child. So what? She had birthed five children before, what was one more? Ridiculous he huffed, fondling the large bosomed woman. 

Catelyn Stark sat uncomfortably at the front of the room facing the crowd. Cersai Baratheon was next to her and the silence was almost unbearable. Catelyn had never been quite contented around the Baratheon’s and Lanister’s…something always seemed sort of off. Cersai was beautiful mysterious with a golden mane to match her siblings and children. Compared to the Stark clan with their dark hair and light complexions, the Lanisters looked as though they had been dropped from the heavens. It wasn’t about jealousy, Catelyn had convinced herself long ago. It was something else, something she could never quite put a finger on.  
“Lady Catelyn,” Cersai addressed, breaking the silence, “I hear you with child.”  
Lady Stark nodded. The way she said it was not quite congratulatory.   
“Well aren’t you Northerners a fertile lot,” she smirked and turned her attention back towards the crowd.   
Catelyn inhaled greatly and clasped her hands together nervously in her lap.

The dinner progressed normally with no more words exchanged between the two women. Eddard was making his rounds through the crowd, laughing and joking with his people. He was a very well liked Lord. Robert glared at him from his spot in the corner and Ned caught his crippling stare. It would be cowardly not to approach his childhood friend, he decided, and made his way through the crowd.   
“Ned!” Robert boasted loudly shoving the woman off his lap and staggering to his feet. He was obviously sloshed.  
“If it isn’t my old pal! Here to deny something else to your King?” He raged, laughing wildly.   
“Friend,” Ned stated coolly, stabilizing Robert with a firm hand on his shoulder.   
“Don’t friend me, Eddard Stark,” he slurred loudly, wobbling to the point of almost falling. By this time, a good portion of the room had its attention on the two men – including Catelyn and Cersai.   
“I think it would be best to talk about this in the morning. For now, let’s get you up to bed,” Ned suggested quietly.  
“No one tells a King what to do!” He bellowed, taking a swing at Eddard and missing. The crowd gasped. Now everyone was watching. Ned took a solid step forward and grabbed Robert forcefully by the shoulders making sure he could not make another attempt at injuring him.  
Robert shoved him hard and put his hands high in the air, “Everyone will leave this instant,” he roared. His chest was puffed high in the air like a peacock showing its dominance. The room was suddenly a hurry of chaos as everyone exited and only the two men and their wives remained.  
Robert drew his sword and Catelyn and Cersai got to their feet.  
“Robert, let’s stop this nonsense and go to bed,” Cersai commanded.  
“And why would I listen to you, woman?”   
Cersai was silenced and Robert stepped confidently towards Ned with his blade in hand.   
“Robert, you know I did not mean to offend you. It is only my duty to my family that keeps me from being your hand,” Ned offered, not bowing to Robert’s threats.  
“Nothing should come before your duty to the crown, not even your pregnant bitch,” he growled, thrusting his sword toward Catelyn.   
“Robert, it’s the wine talking,” Ned said, using his hands to communicate that his wife should leave.   
Catelyn bit her lip and held limply onto the chair at her side. She did not want to leave her husband while a drunken man was threatening him with a sword.  
“Cat, leave now,” her husbanded commanded.   
“No Cat,” he purred, “Stay, and watch your traitorous husband die.”  
That was enough for Cersai, “Stop!” she called to her husband fiercly, “enough of that talk.” She walked towards her husband and embraced him, “There is no need for death, my love. My father can serve as King’s hand, and Eddard can remain here as Lord of Winterfell. Eddard is your friend, I believe the wine has gone to your head,” she whispered, and led her angry husband to their bedchambers.   
Catelyn breathed a sigh of relief and rushed to her husband.  
“He was no threat, my love. His pride is wounded and I certainly understand. If he asks me tomorrow, I will go with him. He is right after all, I can’t deny the King,” Eddard muttered, holding his wife tightly in his arms.  
Catelyn went cold and limp in his grasp and turned to leave without a word to her husband.  
*GOT*

Ned did not join Cat that night, at least not at the time she usually expected him. She feared he was falling from her grasp and they would part on bad terms. She would possibly never see him again and that notion broke her heart. When she had almost given up hope that he was too angry to share her bed, she heard the door creak open. Throwing the furs off her body, she rushed to the door to greet him with apologies and love. But it was not Ned. In the doorway stood a threatening, fuming figure. It was Robert Baratheon.

Catelyn pulled her thin nightgown around her body and scowled. “My King,” she offered. Robert laughed heartily.   
“My King,” he mocked.   
“What can I do for you?” She asked, her face lacking any emotion.  
He plunged toward her and ripped the clothing from her body in one foul swoop. She yelped and scurried backward, tripping and landing with a thud on the hard wooden floor.  
Robert grabbed her violently by the hair and pulled her up against the wall. He moved his grip to her throat so that she could not scream.   
“No one denies the King!”


	3. The Kill

“Do not worry, Bran. No one will hurt our father,” Jon soothed his younger brother.  
“But didn’t you see the way he pulled his sword? I hope father fought back! I bet he did,” Bran paused, shifting his weight further under the furs, “No, I’m sure he did.”  
Jon laughed, “Robert and Ned are friends, nothing happened. No one is fighting,” Jon chuckled, “In fact, I bet they’re sharing a drink and laughing about it all right now!”  
Bran sighed, “You really think so?”  
“I really think so.”  
“Too bad. Because I know our father would have won! And maybe then he would be King of the realm.”  
Jon laughed, “I don’t think it works that way, Bran.”  
“How does it work then?”  
“Well, Joffrey is next in line for the Iron Throne, father is lord of Winterfell with no rights to the title of King,” Jon explained.   
“I think father would make a better King than both Robert and his idiot son put together!” Bran huffed, crossing his small arms across his chest.   
“Between you and me,” Jon whispered into the young boy’s ear, “I do too.”  
They shared a laugh, but something louder echoed through the room. It was a woman’s cry.   
Bran recognized the voice immediately, “Mother!” he yelped.   
Bran was out of his bed like a flash of dragon’s fire, but his older brother held him back, “You stay here, Bran. I’ll go make sure everything is okay.”  
Bran tried to protest but something about the urgency and fear in Jon’s eyes made him slump back onto his bed.  
Jon Snow took off down the hallway, drawing his sword at Lady Catelyn’s chamber room door, “Lady Catelyn!” He called and there was no answer, just a rough noise and thudding coming from the other side of the door. He waited only a moment – another one of Catelyn’s cries could be faintly heard. That was all it took and Jon was through the door.   
The scene in front of him was sickly: Robert was hastily pulling up his trousers, a naked Catelyn crumpled in the corner of the room sobbing. Her neck was bruised and her chest was bleeding as well as a few gashes on her face. She looked up at Jon with a mixture of tears and red pouring down her face. In an instant Jon had Robert Baratheon pressed against the wall with a sword to his throat.  
Robert spit out a gut wrenchingly cruel laugh and spit in Jon’s face, “Just in time, bastard,” he seethed, “I was just about to erase the evidence.”  
“What does that mean?” Jon growled, pressing the sword further into his skin.   
“It means that Lady Catelyn here would no longer be able to testify against any…acts,” he laughed again, motioning his fingers along the edge of Jon’s sword.   
“She would be…silenced,” he added, grinning.   
Just as Jon was about to slice his sword through the vile man’s neck, Ned Stark came rushing in, sensing something was not right in his home.   
He was right.   
His heart dropped through his stomach when he saw his wife coiled and bent in the corner of the room, her arms tightly squeezed around her legs. In a split second he was by Jon’s side, pushing him out of the way.  
“Look who’s joined the party?” Robert roared. And those were his last words as Ned drew his blade and without a second thought, stabbed it through his gut.  
There was silence in the room. Pure and udder silence as all Catelyn, Ned, and Jon watched Robert slide to the ground, his eyes wide and disturbed, his face pale as a nightwalker.   
Catelyn gaped at her husband, finally stifling the tears that seemed to be pouring from her eyes uncontrollably.   
“Ned,” she gasped.   
Ned did not flinch emotionally, he simply grabbed Cat’s robe and brought it to her, picking her gently up from the ground and wrapping her in it. They were both shaking as they held each other. Catelyn looked up form Ned’s shoulder and stared at the dead King slumped on the ground, blood pooling around his large body.  
“What are we going to do?” Jon stuttered.  
Ned did not hesitate, “Catelyn will take the kids and leave to her sister where they will be safe, Robb will stay in Winterfell, and I will…I will, well I don’t know what I will do, but that’s not important,” he said, holding Cat out in front of him so he could look her in the eye, “All that matters is that my family is safe. I don’t know what will happen to me when everyone finds out what I have done, but there is no reason that you and the children should be in danger,” he spoke only to his wife.   
Catelyn nodded fearfully, tears beginning to fall again.  
“What of Jon?” she choked out. Jon was surprised by her question. Lady Catelyn was not too fond of him as he was her husband’s bastard.  
Ned was equally as surprised, but tried to hide his disbelief, “You will need someone to look after you and the children. Four is too many to watch over on your journey.”  
Catelyn nodded distantly.   
“I know he will look after you,” Ned said confidently. He moved his hand to his wife’s swollen face. He was breaking inside, but he had to be strong for his family. He would have to deal with the consequences of what he had just done.   
“I love you, Cat,” he whispered, kissing her firmly on her lips. A single tear slipped down his cheek, “I love you so much, but you need to leave, and you need to leave now.”


	4. The Refuge

“We’re headed toward Vale of Arryn now, children,” Catelyn whispered, mounting the one horse they were to take on their journey. She held her youngest son, Rickon, tight to her body even though the gash in her chest was still bleeding out and it was painful to the touch. Rickon’s face mirrored the fear everyone was feeling. He held tightly to his mother’s sleeve, “Mummy? Where is father? Why isn’t he coming with us?”   
“Oh my sweetling, we will see your father as soon as we can, I promise.” Even as the words left her mouth she did not believe them. They would not see Eddard again, she feared.   
“We will travel through the night, Lady Stark,” Jon spoke, “Will you be able to make it to the White Knife River? There we will bandage your wounds. Now, we have no time.”  
“I’ll be fine, Jon. Don’t worry about me,” she smiled down at him, it did not quite reach her eyes. Jon could tell Catelyn was scared.  
The six figures retreated quickly into the Godswood and then past the northern gate of Winterfell. They had left the safe confines of their home and were now completely defenseless save Jon and his one sword. Catelyn knew that this would not be an easy journey, but they had no choice. With the Lanisters still within Winterfell’s gates, the family was not safe. She could not seem to come up with a best case scenario for the fate of her husband – under what regard would they want to keep him alive once they found out their King had been murdered? And what of the Baratheon House? Stannis and his brother were never close, but surely he would want vengeance. And Renly – would the Lord of Storm’s End be after Ned as well? She could not see a bright future for her beloved husband. If she had let him go to King’s Landing, none of this would have ever happened. She may not have had her husband by her side, but at least he would have remained safe and…alive.   
“Mum, you have lots of blood,” Rickon whispered, holding up his two soaked hands. Catelyn frowned and touched the fabric of her dress near her thighs. It was sodden and she could feel more leaking from her womanhood. She felt faint and dazed, and clutched onto the rains for support.   
“Are you alright, Mummy?” Rickon asked, pulling on her sleeve.   
She nodded and closed her eyes.  
“Lady Stark?” Jon asked, stopping the horse. The girls and Bran stopped and went to their mother’s side. They were worried for her well being. Her face was still visibly injured and she was a sickly pale white.   
“I’m fine, really,” she assured them, “I will bleed for a while, then it will stop.” She was not certain if the blood was from the roughness of Robert or if it was her red flower blooming. Either way, she did not want to frighten her children any more than need be.   
“Perhaps we should stop, Jon,” Sansa spoke for the first time since her mother had shaken her abruptly from her sleep just an hour before.  
“Perhaps,” Jon said looking around in the darkness.  
“NO!” Catelyn said sternly, “At this rate it will take us more than a month to get to my sister. If we keep a steady pace we should arrive in twenty nights.”  
“Twenty nights?” Bran whispered nervously to his sister Arya.   
Arya looked back at him uneasily and nodded, “But the King’s Road is safe, Bran,” she assured him. At least that is what she had been told, but now that she was out here, she wasn’t so sure. She pulled her cape around her tightly. Winter was coming and it was bitter in the north.   
Catelyn looked down at her youngest daughter and saw that she was shaking from the chill. If they could make it further south tonight perhaps they could find shelter in Castle Cerwyn. The Noble House would surely take them until dawn.   
The family continued to journey into the night. Catelyn was hardly conscious from lack of blood when they arrived at the castle’s gates. A guard approached the group.  
“I am Jon Snow,” Jon spoke to the stony eyed man, “I am escorting the family of Eddard Stark to Vale of Arryn. We need a place to rest and a bit of food before the long journey ahead of us, and were hopeful that we could take refuge here.” Jon’s voice was more confident than he felt. The guard peered down at him through his iron gates.  
“House Bolton, our overlord, has pledged his allegiance to the Starks. You are welcome,” the guard barked.  
Catelyn sighed with relief and held her sleeping boy. They were led inside and safe for at least the rest of the night.


	5. The Pain

Cersei and Jaime Lannister stared at Eddard, Cersei’s mouth agape.  
“My husband is dead?” she stuttered.  
“I’m afraid so, my queen. I’m so very sorry for this,” Ed looked down at his feet. He was so ashamed, yet so angry. He had murdered his best friend, but his best friend had raped his wife. He couldn’t distinguish which crime was worse? He felt betrayed, he felt remorse, but most of all, he felt like a fool. He had acted out of shear anger when he had plunged his sword into the gut of his friend’s gut, but worse, he had acted out of fear when he had sent his wife and children away without a second thought. His guilt had driven him; he believed that he should be punished for his crime, however, if he had given it a decent moment to settle, he would have chosen to keep his family by his side, face the consequences, and do what ever it took to protect them and himself. After all, the King’s party was no more than one hundred strong, and he could have easily called upon his banner men if things would have gotten out of hand. Now, his whole livelihood was headed south, completely alone and unprotected. After his confession to the queen, he planned to send Robb south to bring them back. By then would it be too late? He could be dead in less than a fortnight, worse – they could be.   
“Sorry?” Cersei faltered. But Cersei’s voice was not filled with sadness, nor anger, not even fear…but what was it…joy? Relief? Madness?  
Eddard’s head shot up, surprised at her shocking reaction. When their eyes met, she attempted to mask her emotions.   
“My queen?”  
“What an awful thing,” she spoke, emotionless.   
“I murdered my best friend, I murdered your husband,” he said in disbelief. Eddard held out his hands, his wrists touching adamantly, “I should pay for this!”  
“He raped your wife, Stark,” Jaime offered, equally as unaffected as his sister.   
Ned closed his eyes in defeat, his hands returning limply to his sides, “Yes.”  
“He forced himself on Catelyn, Eddard, he’s not your friend,” Jaime continued.   
Ned stood in stunned silence, “Perhaps not. But he was our king.”  
“And now Joffrey will be,” Cersai said simply, “It was only a matter of time.”  
Ned shook his head in disbelief. He had murdered the king and he was not to be punished.   
“What will become of me? What of my family?”  
“That is up to you, of course,” Jaime insisted, “We could oust you the realm, put you to trial, and behead you, or,” he paused, “We could dispose of the evidence, send a party out to hunt and claim an accident. What sounds like the better option to you, Stark?”  
Stunned silence. It was almost like this was the plan all along. The solution was so easy for them.  
“Of course, a few men would have to be in on it, but I assume the Lord of Winterfell has a band of mates he can trust?” Jaime continued.   
Ned nodded flaccidly, his eyes dead but his mind going a mile a minute.  
“I need to go south for Cat,” he blurted. Robb could not go; it was too dangerous for a noble boy of only fourteen. Yet again  
“You sent her away?” Cersei laughed foully.   
“And my children,” he admitted regretfully.   
“Oh, Eddard, how foolish. Did you really think our knights would have your head?” Cersei questioned.   
“Of course I did! I’m a king slayer!”  
“Join the club,” Jaime stated ruefully. 

*GOT*

The pain was dark. And strong. Cat’s whole body ached and she chided herself for being so weak and meager. They had been given a small, stone room to share with one wooden bed, a wooden table, and several furs scattered across the floor. Rickon and Bran were fast asleep in the corner of the room, furs heaping over their small bodies. They needed rest for the days to follow. Sansa and Arya were lying on opposite sides of the bed, each faking slumber. A mother always knew the difference. Their breathing was shallow and calculated; their worries were almost palpable. Jon was beside Catelyn at the table, sowing the deep gash on her chest from Robert’s blade. She held her breath each time the needle penetrated her sensitive flesh. The boy was extremely cautious and tentative with her, something she did not expect from a boy nearly fifteen. Her Robb would never have such a study hand at a task such as this. She was impressed with Jon Snow. She would never admit it, but she was also proud of him. Even though he was a bastard son of her husband, he was taking responsibility for her family without hesitance or trepidation.   
The bleeding had ceased to flow down her thighs; she hoped it would not start again. Too much blood loss would slow them down on their journey. Catelyn would not let herself be the reason her children were harmed.  
When Jon was done stitching Cat’s wound, he set the needle on the table and silently stood.  
“Thank you, Jon,” Catelyn told him earnestly. Her fingers gently traveled over his perfect handiwork, it was a scar that would not so easily heal. Neither was the one on her heart. She felt violated and ashamed and worst of all she yearned for her husband and she missed her home. She had never realized how at peace she was at Winterfell until this moment. Her home was not Riverrun any longer, it was in the arms of her husband and wherever that happened to be. Ned made her feel safe and she needed his presence more than anything in this moment. She felt hollow and lifeless. She may never see him again.


End file.
